Everything Ends
by Light The Visionary
Summary: Kenny's just about ready to stay in Hell. Damien's just angry that he's willing to throw away his life when Damien never even got the chance to live.


A/N – I missed South Park. It's been a while and with my return to South Park cosplay, I felt it was only right to also return to fanfiction. I never feel right cosplaying a character until I've written from their point of view. So, here we have it – Damien.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Rebecca Daniels – suicide. Anthony Georgeston – Car Accident." The voice inside my head reads in a dry monotone as I mark the names of the lost souls passing me. The Gateway to Hell is always so depressing. I sigh as a young man with most of his face blown away approaches my desk.

"Stuart Hodgins – gunshot" I drone, rolling my eyes as the dead man nearly topples into my chair as he passes.

The downside of having only one eye, I suppose.

"Light Yagami – heart attack, Kenny McCormick -"

"Crushed under a piano falling from the sky" I frown and raise my eyes from my ever growing lexicon as a smooth voice interrupts my work.

"You again." I state.

"Me again." Kenny drawls, resting his hands on the edge of the desk and leaning forward.

"Time for your weekly check up again, McCormick?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"You know it. Must be because I just can't stay away from you." He laughs in a manner all to light-hearted for one damned to an eternity in the fires of Hell.

Though we both know that for him, it's only a temporary stay.

"Just once I'd like to get through a week without seeing your inbred face in my line." I scoff.

"Who else do you have to lounge about with on the banks of the river Styx?" Kenny grins and I can already feel a migraine coming on.

"It's not the Styx..." I mutter for what must be the millionth time since I first met the ignorant teenager all those years ago.

I find myself tuning out as the blonde rambles on about some worthless trivia. No doubt tales of his adventures in Colorado since the last time I crossed his name off of my list.

I glance behind the boy, surveying the lengthy queue extending far beyond my line of sight.

No rest for the wicked, after all.

"McCormick, get out of my line. I have enough to do without you adding to it." I snap.

He only pauses in his ramblings to smirk at me.

"Not a chance, Satan Spawn. I don't know how long I'll be here and I know how much you crave my scintillating companionship. Let's go for a walk" he says, offering a hand.

I groan. The idea is tempting. So much more so than I'd like to admit. But duty calls, and I know that someone needs to be here to keep the influx of the damned in order.

But I'm tired. So, so tired. And Kenny is my only link to anything other than empty dreariness.

I reach out and grasp his hand with my own.  
And hour of escape – it's worth the punishment.

Kenny pulls me from my seat with vigour and drags me through the iron gates. I hesitate long enough to grab some pitiful wretch of a soul and instruct him to take the names of those entering behind us. He blinks at me in confusion and I'm unable to find the will to care about it.

It's quiet as we stroll though the pits of fire and I inhale a lungful of familiar brimstone.

Same thing, day in, day out.

I can't take an eternity like this.

I'm startled out of my reverie as Kenny barks out a laugh beside me.

"What the fuck is so funny?" I mutter through gritted teeth.

"You are!" He chuckles, fighting to get his mirth under his control.

I glare. "Really. You look ready to throw yourself into that volcano." He says, gesturing dramatically as if I can't see the massive feature in the distance.

"It's not like it'd do any good." I deadpan. I'm already in Hell. It doesn't get any worse than this.

But it doesn't get any better for me, either.

Kenny grabs my hand and steers me towards the side of the river of flames.

Collapsing onto the hot ground, he drags me with him.

I settle myself into a comfortable position and wrap my arms around my knees.

I turn my gaze towards Kenny and I'm truly surprised to find a pensive expression covering his features.

"I know how you feel." He says quietly.

I doubt it. After a few days here, he returns. He gets to carry on as if his death had no impact.

It's not like anybody remembers.

"Do you?" I ask, and it's one of the few times I don't bother to try to hide the cynicism from my voice.  
"Yeah, I do. You're tired. You're stuck in a rut that doesn't seem like it's ever going to stop. I get that."  
I raise an eyebrow in scepticism and he turns to face me.

"Every time I die, every freak accident, illness, car crash, I come here. And then I go back. And it's like it never even happened. Like I never died. No one remembers. And lately it's starting to feel like nobody remembers because nobody _cares_."

I'm startled by his revelation. I knew about his situation, of course. But I'd never have guess it affected him like this. Any one else would have been driven to insanity, but he holds on with every shred of strength he can muster.

If I'm honest, I'd admire him for it.

"At least it means you get a second, third, fourth chance to do something worthwhile" I say, desperately trying to crush the envy in my chest.

"I wish it didn't. Most of the time when I open my eyes and I'm back in South Park, I wish that the universe would just leave me in Hell." Kenny says.

I feel anger bubbling inside me as I watch him stare into the distance.

"You want to stay here? Fine. We'll fucking swap. I'd give anything to have the chances you have." I snap irritatedly.

He gets to live. Up above with living people. With friends and opportunities.

I feel myself starting to hate him.

He glances at me. "I suppose you would. Wouldn't you?" he says sadly.

The pity in his voice should infuriate me, but instead I feel my anger deflating.

I sigh in defeat.

"You die and you come here. Then you get sent back and no one remembers. And you repeat the cycle over and over again." I say, reaching out for his hand. I take it in my own and he stares at me.

"But one day, you won't go back. You'll be stuck here, not knowing if you're going ever going to get to see the sun again. And when you realise it, you'll feel nothing but regret. You'll beg for just once more chance to live. And you won't get it."

He lowers his eyes to the ground.

"Everything ends, Kenny. Your immortality won't last forever. If I were you, I'd make the most of living while you still can." I trail off, staring into the lava flowing in complicated patterns ahead of me.

"That's... surprisingly profound." He says.

I raise my eyes to his. "I had breakfast with Oscar Wilde this morning."  
He laughs and somehow it almost makes me feel a bit less empty.

Kenny's hand glows in mine and I remove it.

The glow spreads and Kenny looks at me with a look akin to fondness.

"Time to go home." I say and he nods.  
"...Thanks, Damien." He says.

I offer him a half smile as he fades from this world.

There's no place for him here. Not now.

I lean back to lie on the hard ground and stare at the black skies above me.

Everything ends, I told him. For him, it's true.

I'm not so lucky.

No. For me, this is everything. These dark skies and blazing landscapes full of everlasting despair and misery.

I'll always be stuck here.

Forever.

* * *

A/N – I wasn't expecting this to be so... depressing. I generally tend to imagine Damien as a pretty fun guy, just appearing in South Park whenever he feels like it, causing all sorts of tomfoolery. With a dose of sarcasm on the side for the banter.

Damien as I've written him here is far more bitter and cynical than I usually see him. In this particular story I believe that he's eternally condemned to live in hell, unable to leave and visit the living. As such, I'd say he's quite a lot more angry than he'd be otherwise.

As for Kenny, I've always thought of him as being this over the top playboy with a very dirty and sarcastic sense of humour. But in saying that, dying constantly and coming back to life only to fin that no one remembers would take it's toll on anyone.

That's my justification done. See you next oneshot!


End file.
